For a moment I saw tired children, trying to live off of the single moment of life I gave them, and then just waiting. Waiting for someone. Children. All of us. Children in the walls. Five chapter story.

"Her name is Eva," Sylvia told us a few hours later, when she
woke up. "Eva, named for you, Evan. I couldn't have… I mean,
she wouldn't have… If you hadn't helped…" My mouth slowly
dropped, and I just blinked several times, feeling tears piling up
behind my rapidly moving eyelids.

"I don't think… I mean, you shouldn't name her for…" I
stopped, feeling my throat filling with tears. "Didn't you pick a
name with your husband?"

"Yes," Sylvia said softly. "We picked Emily for a girl's name
and Trey for a boy's. But how different is Eva from Emily?" She
reached out and took my hand. "You've been so good to me. You've
helped me, and you haven't even stopped to think about your own
problems." With a slight smile, she finished quietly, "And I
thank and respect you for that, and will do so until the end of
time."

"Thank you just seems so weak right about now," I whispered,
touched. Sylvia laughed and sniffled.

"Yeah, well I'm crying too." I squeezed her hand gently, and
bent over to look at the sleeping baby on the bed. Her head seemed
unnaturally large, with strange red spots and a small, wobbly neck. I
took one of her tiny hands and brought it close to my face. She had
this clean, fresh sort of smell, combined with the smell of the
bathroom soap. Her fingers were tiny and bendy, and her nails were
even smaller. Her whole hand in comparison to mine was what startled
me most. My hand swallowed hers alive.

"Eva," I whispered. "You're going to live in a beautiful
world, you know that?" I kissed her hand gently, careful not to
scrape my poorly shaven face against her soft, smooth skin.
Everything about her seemed so perfect, and I was determined not to
ruin it. "Are you going to move her to the crib again?"

"Soon," Sylvia breathed, running her hand down her child's
back. "I'm just so…"

"Overcome with feelings?" I finished wryly. Sylvia smiled
slightly.

"Well, who wouldn't be?" Marissa asked softly from beside me.
"She's beautiful." I merely smiled. I had grown used to the
fact that Marissa couldn't quite understand my sense of humor, as
much as I tried to make her get it.

"I wish she had a toy, or something," Sylvia murmured suddenly.
"A doll or a stuffed animal. Doctors always say how that helps
their grip, or something or other." She looked at us hopefully, but
Marissa shook her head.

"I've got nothing," she sighed. I started to shake my head, but
then I stopped mid-way.

"Wait." I stood up and walked over to the closet with my bags. I
ripped through two full bags before finding what I was looking for.
With an unintentionally loud "aha!", I jumped back into the room,
waving my prize around. "Here you go. Orange." I passed over my
childhood bear, and smiled broadly. "I got him as a baby, and I
think he's served me well. Time to move on, don't you agree?"

"If it's your baby toy," Sylvia started, but I held my hand up.

"Let her have it. From one Evan to the next… um, Eva." I smiled
slightly. "It's a great bear. Orange. That's his name. Orange."

"Orange?" Marissa asked, smiling slightly. I shrugged.

"Long story."

"Figures." She sighed, and leaned in close to Eva. "She's so
beautiful. Sometimes I wish I could have a baby."

"Not at this age," Sylvia and I answered immediately, at the same
time. Marissa grinned.

"That sounds like my parents." The smile slowly slipped off her
face, and she turned away from us. The mood shifted, and suddenly I
felt worried again.

"We should get the doctor back," I said quietly. "I mean, we've
got to check that she's okay and that you're okay…"

"He said we're fine, and we are," Sylvia said firmly.
Even though the glum look had gone back in her eyes, she still had a
spark of joyous fire gleaming in her face.

"How do you know?" I asked. She smiled, and ran her hand
down Eva's back again.

"I just know."

I left it at that.

After Eva's birth, the feeling and atmosphere in the room changed
considerably. With the birth of the beautiful baby girl, suddenly
everyone felt relaxed. There wasn't the constant worry about Sylvia
giving birth at any moment. There was the problem of room, though.
With seven people in what would normally be a four-person room,
things began to get crowded. Gabrielle was moved out of the crib
temporarily and every night she slept on a pile of blankets on the
floor. Bathroom time became a problem too. Bathing the kids now took
an unnaturally long amount of time.

But the worst problem was keeping them entertained. Now that Eva was
born and breathing, Brooke's formerly calm demeanor disappeared.
She began to cry at night and scream during the day for her father.
She needed round the clock attention in order to stay quiet, and that
was far from easy. David, who for a nine-year old was pretty calm,
also started to get fed up with being indoors all day long. He began
to act moodily and spent most of the day in a dark, taciturn mood.

"If Joseph was here, at least it'd be interesting," he
muttered, folding his arms across his chest and glaring at the wall.
Whenever we tried to get him to explain, he closed up, locked up
residence, and wouldn't talk for hours. For a young kid, his
attention span was certainly long.

We were strictly forbidden to leave the hotel, and the downstairs
were either echoingly empty or loud, crammed and full. With little to
do in the room, we picked up the markers, and drew.

At first only David drew. Once again, I was struck by how mature he
seemed. His drawings had a depth to them that I couldn't match. I
had loved drawing when I was younger, though I wasn't good, not by
anyone's means. David was good. Then Marissa joined him. Her
drawings were incredible, too. She drew faces like they were. First
there was Sylvia's face, drawn from before, but each day she bent
down on the ground and drew a face of someone in the room. She sang
softly as she drew, and her voice was beautiful and soothing. It was
comforting in that room, listening to the scratching of the markers
against the wall and Marissa's beautiful singing voice. Sometimes
Sylvia joined in, when she knew the song. Then one day she sat down
with Brooke, and the two picked up pens. We were beyond the corner
now, and now they were just drawing on the walls. Brooke drew stick
figures and awkward scribbles. Sylvia sketched some silly
cartoon-like images, and then one incredible picture of a clown. When
asked about it, she just laughed and said she didn't like clowns.

I joined them differently. The next morning, before they all woke up,
I picked up one of the pens and began to draw. I was drawings planes,
boats, houses, faces, angels, demons, cars, and feelings. David,
always second to wake up, looked over at me, blinked a few times, and
then smiled. He climbed out of bed and joined me, filling in the
empty spaces in our drawings with white-out.

Another week passed like this, until we got the call.

The day didn't seem any different on that day than any other day.
We were still hungry, still tired, and still frustrated. Or, at
least, everyone else in my room was. I'd fallen into the pleasant
rhythm and though I felt guilty about this, I was enjoying myself. I
still couldn't feel any sorrow from the flood, and even worse, I
felt glad.

This morning went like all others. The five elders were on the floor.
The babies were in the crib, sleeping peacefully. We were hunched
over our masterpieces on the floor when the phone rang. We all turned
to look at it, surprised and intrigued. The phone never rang in our
room, and instantly emotions ran high. I stood up immediately.

"I'll get it," I announced, but it was unnecessary to say so.
The phone was already in my hand. I lifted it to my ear and said,
"Hello?"

"Um, room 1224?" a voice on the other end asked.

"Yes," I answered, and unable to restrain my curiosity, I added,
"Who's this?"

"This is the front desk calling. Is there a Felder family here?"

"Yes," I said, unable to keep the suspicion out of my voice.
"Why?"

"There's a group of Felder's coming up to your room," the
voice continued. "Their home is suitable for moving into again.
They think you're family." There was a pause. "You… you are
missing people, right?"

"Yes, yes, send them up," I said softly. "Thank you." I hung
up the phone, and blinked several times feeling a strange sense of
nausea around my stomach.

"What is it?" Sylvia asked distractedly, not looking away from
her drawing.

"David." The boy turned and looked at me, both eyebrows cocked in
expectation. "Your parents. They've found…" I stopped,
noticing the look on the boy's face. It went from expectant to
ecstatic, to angry, to disbelieving. I swallowed, and finished.
"They've found you, and are coming up." David blinked once,
twice, and then turned back towards the wall. I met Sylvia's eyes
with a bemused expression as the boy resumed his drawings calmly as
though nothing had just happened. Marissa grabbed David's arm and
turned him away from the wall sharply.

"Didn't you hear? You're going home!" David shook her off
violently and turned back.

"No, I'm not," he said in a low voice. Marissa grabbed him
again and literally picked him up and threw him down on the rollaway.
Brooke let out a small cry, and hid behind her mother.

"Yes, you are! Your parents are on their way up! You're going
home, unlike the rest of us!" she cried, gripping him tightly. With
a strange half-punch, half-slap, David shoved her off him, and stood
up, eyes ablaze. Eva began to whimper as she woke up, but David
didn't notice.

"No, I'm not!" he shouted. "Because it's not going to be
them! It's going to be someone else, or a dream, or a
nightmare, like every other time! There's nothing that can get me
out, not screaming, not waking up. We're going to be stuck here
forever because nobody cares!" Tears streamed down his face, and
Marissa sat back, stunned. I stood, still frozen to my spot, feeling
the tumbling in my stomach intensify. Eva's cries faded away, and
she fell asleep once more.

There was a silent moment in room 1224 which was interrupted by an
abrupt, sharp series of knocks at the door. I managed to get myself
unstuck and walked to the door, breathing in deeply to calm myself
down. David didn't move from atop the bed, though the tears had
stopped. Marissa seemed unable to look up and Sylvia was watching the
door expectantly with a touch of sadness. I opened the door to reveal
a small boy standing there, maybe five or six years old. I didn't
recognize this ecstatic kid and was about to ask him what he wanted,
but then it hit me that the little boy there looked uncommonly like
David.

"David?" he asked. "Is that you? David?" His voice had the
slightest hint of a lisp, and the wistful expression on his face as I
let him in nearly broke my heart.

"You're not Joseph," David said coldly, breathing heavily and
running to my side. His fingers wrapped around my shirt. "I'm
imagining you."

"David, it's me!" The boy stopped a foot away from us, and
tipped his head to one side. "David, what…" There was an
expression of naïve confusion on his face.

"David, what… I've been waiting. I've been bored. And
everyone keeps crying, and Mom and Dad were so scared about you and I
don't…" He stopped, and held his hands out.

"He's here, David," I whispered. "It's not just you. He's
here."

"Joe?" The little boy stepped forward until he was just in front
of his brother, and then David let go of my shirt and threw his arms
around the small boy. "Joseph, god, you're here, real!" The two
fell together in a hug, and both began to cry. It was all I could do
not to join in.

"Joseph, what's wrong?" a woman asked, coming in through the
door. "You're…" She fell silent as she looked down at the two
boys crying, and suddenly her face twisted and she whispered weakly,
"David? This is it… room 1224. David."

"Mommy," came the answer, in just as disbelieving of a voice as
hers. The woman fell to the ground, and wrapped up both her sons in a
teary hug.

"And Gabrielle?" a man from above them asked weakly. Behind him
was an old man in a wheelchair, fast asleep. This tall man simply
stood there, looking like he didn't know how to react. David's
father, with his mannerisms. The same stunned silence his son had.
"David, you had…" The man began to breathe heavily, holding
onto the doorframe with large hands.

"Here," I said quietly, stepping forward. Sylvia, Marissa, and I
had simply stood on the side to let this family reunite, but then I
remembered that we had a member of their family in our room. Sylvia
stood (Brooke one step behind) and handed Gabrielle to her father.
Almost instantly, the baby began to gurgle happily. Her mother began
to cry again, and reached one hand up to stroke her baby's face.

"My Gab, my Gab," she breathed, still on the ground and holding
her sons. "You took care of them?"

"Yes," Sylvia said softly. "I fed her. Me. She needed it."
David's mother nodded absent-mindedly, and continued rocking on the
floor with her still-crying sons.

"And they took care of us, too," Marissa added suddenly, joining
us. "David's a sharp kid. He deserved a lot more than sitting in
a stuffy room for a while."

"Thank you," the father said. "I don't know how I can
possibly thank you more, but… thank you so much."

"You're welcome, I suppose," I said, "but anyone would have
done the same." I bit my lip and asked, "Are you going home now?"

"Yes," David's father said, nodding absent-mindedly. "They've
cleared it all out and we can go back in. Our house seems to have had
little damage. We're flying out tonight."

"Tonight?" Marissa asked suddenly, and I noticed how her eyes
filled with tears. "How… how did you find them?"

"They waited," David's mother whispered. "They waited until
our house was ready to bring us back together." With a watery
chuckle, she continued. "I don't think whoever thought this plan
up is a mother." She looked up at Marissa, and added, "If you're
missing your parents, they'll only be told where you are when your
house is suitable again." Marissa nodded, and stepped back. A
muscle in her jaw twitched as she clenched and unclenched it.

Awkwardly, we stood around watching them uncertainly, but then David
disentangled himself from his mother and came up to Sylvia. He hugged
her, hugged Brooke for a long time, and then hugged Marissa. He gave
Marissa a small peck on the cheek, at which she laughed. Then he
hugged me tightly. I bent down slightly and hugged him back.

"Take care, buddy," I whispered. "I hope to hear great things
from you one day. David Felder? You'll see. Someday, you'll be
big and famous, and then I'll be proud." We broke apart, and he
returned to his parents. My stomach rolled as I watched him rejoin
his family. With an awkward wave, and one final smile, they left the
room, shutting the door behind them.

Sylvia sat down on the edge of her bed, and murmured softly, "Well…
At least someone's going home."

"But my house was wrecked," Marissa whispered, tears pouring down
her cheeks. "And… and Ma won't be able to wait. She'll worry,
and we'll be stuck here forever." She bit her lip, and wiped at
her eyes. "I can't… I can't…"

Unconsciously, I stepped forward and wrapped her up in a hug. She
fell against me, shaking as she sobbed. I held her gently until she
stopped crying and broke away.

"You miss them," I said softly as she sat on the edge of the
rollaway. "You miss them."

"Yeah, I do." The words came out softly, and then with a strange
little laugh, she added, "And I'm going to miss David and Gab."

"Mommy?" Brooke asked suddenly, causing us all to turn our heads.

"What, baby?"

"Why did David leave?"

There was a pause, and then Sylvia said quietly, "Because that was
his family, sweetie. He belongs with them. His mommy missed him, just
like you miss Daddy." Sylvia reached out and gently stroked her
daughter's fine hair. "They're his family."

"But isn't Evan his daddy?" Brooke asked, turning to look at
me. I instantly relaxed, and unable to help myself, I smiled.

"No, darling, I'm not," I assured her. "I'm nobody's
daddy. I'm nobody's anything." Brooke said nothing, and leaned
back against her mother without another word.

The rest of the day was like that. Almost mournful. The room felt so
quiet and empty, and every moment felt wrong. We were waiting.
Waiting for the phone to ring and for this ordeal to be over. Just…
waiting.

The next day felt off too, but slightly better. We resumed our
drawings, and for the first time, something changed. Marissa, instead
of drawing one of us as she always did, began to sketch faces
entirely unfamiliar to us all.

"Who's that?" I asked her, pointing at the face she was working
on.

"Nobody."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

It was impossible to argue with her, so I just let it go, returning
to my own work. I was busy trying to draw Lawrence as I had last seen
it, but it was proving to be trickier than expected. Instead of
constantly making mistakes, I was drawing on the wall in pencil with
the intention of going over it all again later.

Three days later, four days after David and Gabrielle's departure,
the room still felt emptier, and suddenly felt emptier still. A
quick, abrupt phone call informed us that there was a couple down in
the lobby waiting for us. Surprised, we abandoned our posts at the
wall, slipped on a "Do not disturb" sign, and went downstairs to
a relatively empty lobby.

"Déjà vu," Sylvia muttered upon entering the lobby.
"Just like day one."

"Less crowded this time," I said. "Anybody see a reason why
we're down here?"

"I think…" Marissa stopped dead in her tracks, breathing
heavily. "I thought, for a moment…" She bit her lip, and then
screamed out, "Ma! Ma!" With crazed movements, she ran forward
and flung herself into the arms of a small, skinny woman halfway
across the lobby, who instantly began to cry.

"Ari, darling!" The woman and Marissa hugged tightly, and then
the woman cried out, "Our baby's back!" to a man somewhere
behind her. The huge, lumbering guy came out of nowhere and wrapped
them both up in a hug. After a moment, Marissa pushed her parents
away and said, "You're embarrassing me, Ma." Marissa stepped
forward to us, and sighed.

"Well, guess this is goodbye. I get to go home," she said softly.

"Thanks so much for watching over our baby," the woman said,
smiling through her tears. "I was so worried."

"You were a wonderful help, and you're a wonderful girl,
Marissa," Sylvia said gently. "It was an honor to meet you, and
if you lose touch with me, I'm warning you. You're still Eva's
godmother." Marissa blushed, laughed, and took another step
forward. She reached over and hugged me first.

"Maybe I'll get a sense of humor later in life," she whispered
before letting go. I laughed slightly, and made a face. Her eyes
sparkled and her cheeks glowed pink with a warm happiness.

"Doubt it." I smiled at her, and said, "Don't worry so much.
Being serious is good, but it's more important that you appreciate
yourself. You're a wonderful person, Marissa. You're an
incredible artist and an amazing singer." I squeezed her hand
gently, and added, "It would have been impossible to do this
without you." We hugged again, and I let go and stood back.

Then she reached over and hugged Sylvia, careful not to bump into the
sleeping Eva in her hands. The two held each other for a long time,
and then Marissa bent down and kissed Eva's forehead.

"She's beautiful," Marissa told Sylvia, smiling gently.
"Really." Finally, Marissa bent down in front of Brooke, who had
a stubborn expression on her face, almost of denial. "Can I get a
hug?" Marissa asked, holding her hands out. Brooke nodded, and let
Marissa hold her for a moment or two.

Then she asked, "Why are you leaving?"

"Because this is my family," Marissa said softly. "You're
also my family, and I'll see you again, but right now I have to go
with them." She kissed Brooke gently, and straightened up. "Bye,
guys." We waved slightly, awkward once again, and began to head
back. I couldn't help but turn back once again to see how she fell
into her parent's arms, talking and laughing. Again, something
turned inside of me, and I felt that it was hard to swallow. Sylvia
was already crying, and Brooke was crying silently. Knowing that this
was not the time to break down, I took Sylvia into my arms and held
her for a moment.

Then I broke away, and said softly, "Let's go back."

The hotel was emptying, and we felt it. When I went down the next day
to replenish our food supply, the kitchen was empty for the first
time since our arrival. There wasn't the usual bustle and nervous
feel to the air. The cook was relaxed enough to chat with me—though
only for a moment.

"Everyone's leaving, you know," he said, thrusting a small box
into my hands. "We're actually letting other people in again."
Then, almost as though realizing that I was there, he squinted at me.
"Why are you still here, again?"

"They still haven't located everyone in my room," I explained.
"I'm waiting for my roommates to be reunited with their family,
and then I'll just be leaving again."

"You're not waiting for anyone?"

"Nope."

"It's weird that you're sticking around, then," the cook said
with a shrug. "Anyways, if you want proper food, you might be able
to order later. Or come down to the restaurant. We're reopening."

"There are kids."

"Oh. Maybe not. Anyways, you should leave soon, or they'll make
you leave." With a shrug, he added, "I don't think they're
going to want a bunch of leechers for free for much longer." I
nodded slowly, and muttered, "Right…" Then I went back upstairs
to the room.

We began to feel it, too. It suddenly felt right to step out
and notice how the hallway was empty and clean. There wasn't as
much bustle, not as much noise, and everything had a softer, gentler
pace to it. Each day I noticed people leaving, and each day we waited
for the phone call that would make it final.

There wasn't much in the room anymore. We were four, now. Down from
seven. Each one of us had their own bed, and even when we were awake
we were separate. Sylvia was practically catatonic, simply sitting in
her bed and staring ahead into nothing. Brooke played all day long
with the wall, drawing nothing drawings and mostly talking to herself
as she touched the older things we had done. Eva mostly slept, though
when she woke up, she played with Orange, smiling to herself. I took
pictures with my camera, rescued from my hotel in Lawrence. Mostly,
though, I sat and watched.

When the phone rang we were all surprised. Sylvia nearly jumped a
foot, and Brooke let out a little shout. I just stared at the phone
dumbly for a moment before picking it up.

"Sylvia?" a rough voice asked through the receiver.

"No," I told him. "She'll be down in a moment."

"Thank you," said the voice, and hung up. I turned to Sylvia, and
she instantly began to collect Eva's things. With nothing of her
own, she really only had to pack up the gifts the hotel had given
her. Within a minute, she was dressed and ready to go. Eva was
wrapped up in her arms, and I held onto Brooke's hand as well as
Sylvia's bag.

"Bye, room," the little girl said, waving as we left. Quickly,
before anyone noticed, I slipped the "Do not disturb" sign on the
doorknob again. My things were still there in a disorganized mess in
the closet.

Down the elevator we went. Sylvia was mumbling to herself, whispering
her husband's name and holding onto Eva tightly. The elevator doors
slid open, and she ran into the lobby, looking around eagerly.

"You see anyone?" I asked her.

"That's him," Sylvia answered immediately. She thrust Eva into
my hands and began to run towards a man not far away. He stared right
at her, and began to run towards her as well.

"Daddy!" Brooke shrieked, letting go of my arm and running
towards the tall man. In a beautiful moment, the three crashed
together, and began to laugh and cry.

"The baby, the baby," the man said, holding Sylvia as she cried.
"What happened…?"

"Evan?" Sylvia turned her tear-stained face towards me and smiled
slightly. "You can come. You're part of the family now." I
stepped forward and held the child out to the man.

"This is your baby," I told him softly. "She's beautiful,
sir.

"Evan helped me, Robby," Sylvia explained through her tears. "He
saved my life so many times. He helped me so much… And her name is
Eva." The man stroked his wife's hair and accepted the child. He
looked at her for a moment and then turned to Sylvia.

"But I though we'd agreed on Emily," he said, sounding
confused.

"Eva, for Evan," Sylvia answered. "If he hadn't helped…"
She didn't answer, but it was clear. "Evan, what can I say? Thank
you sounds so weak and inappropriate, right?" With a watery laugh,
she stood up and hugged me. "You'll keep in touch, right? Here,
I'll give you our phone number…" I handed her a slip of paper
from my pocket and a pen, and she scribbled down a phone number and
address. "You'd better call me. Let me have your number too…"

"No home, no number," I said, holding a hand up. I took the slip
of paper and carefully slid it into my pocket. Feeling tears behind
my eyes, I hugged her again. "You take care, and next time…" I
grinned slightly. "Go to the hospital. Even that doctor wasn't
good enough for you." She laughed, and hugged me back.

"You take care," she retorted. "You'll make a great
father someday."

With a half laugh, I answered, "Not at this age." Sylvia smiled,
and shrugged. "Anyways… You'd best get going. The bus to the
airport will be leaving soon. You'll get to… recreate your life,
this time with Eva." I bent down and kissed the girl gently. "Bye,
Eva. It's a beautiful world you'll get to live in." She
stirred, blinked once or twice, and began to cry. Her father rocked
her and nodded at me.

"Thanks for helping Sylvia out." He looked at me rather
awkwardly, and I knew that he felt suspicious. I reached out and
shook his hand. There was a warmth and light in his eyes as he looked
at his wife and daughters, and I knew that there was no need for me
to worry about Sylvia, Brooke, or Eva any longer.

I shrugged, and said softly, "Anyone would have done the same.
Especially for your beautiful girls." Bending down, I now said,
"Brooke?" She turned to look at me, and then hugged me. I held
her close, feeling her thin her body was, and then let her go.

"You're going to your family?" she asked me softly. I shook my
head, and held her close.

"No," I whispered, blinking back tears. "You are."

Quickly, almost impulsively, she planted a gentle kiss on my cheek,
and ran back to her father. I stood there, my fingers pressed against
my cheek, half bent, feeling that turning sensation in my stomach
once again. I stood there as theybegan to turn and head off,
struggling to breathe and not to cry. I couldn't understand why I
wanted to cry so much. It was like I was turning into a sentimental
girl. I just stood, and taking deep breaths to calm myself, I watched
them walk away. Sylvia was crying again, and Brooke was talking to
her father non-stop. I was forgotten, and I breathed in deep to keep
myself from crying. Then Sylvia stopped and turned.

"Evan!" she cried out. "What about Orange?" I laughed out a
booming, delightful laugh.

"Hers for life, from one Evan to the next Eva," I called back. I
waved, and began to head back to the front of the lobby. It was
empty, and this was the first time I had ever seen it as such. I
tried to grasp that happy feeling I'd had barely a few days ago,
but my stomach felt rocky and nauseous. The feeling was gone.

I went to the front desk, and rang the small bell there. Almost
immediately, Nash from my first day appeared. Déjà
vu, whispered a voice in my head, but things were so different
this time that I knew it wasn't real. It was just my imagination.

"Yes, sir, how may I help you?" he asked politely, smiling
pleasantly. I paused, trying to recollect my thoughts. Then I asked
in a quiet voice if I could please stay another night, here was my
credit card number, and I'd like to still be in my previous room.
Nash smiled and said, "Of course, sir. Would you like cleaning
services?" No, thank you, I answered, and went back upstairs.

The room looked strange when I got back up. At first I thought it was
because it was empty, but then I realized that it wasn't because it
looked empty, but because it felt small. With seven people, the room
had felt cozy and normal, but now with one lonely, confused man, it
felt tiny, with the walls closing in on me. I couldn't breathe, and
without understanding what I was doing, I threw open the closet,
pulled my bags out and tossed them on one of the beds in loud,
thumping throws. I kicked the bed, I screamed aloud, I shoved the
crib aside, and then, breathing heavily, I spotted the wall.

All the rage left my body and my legs crumbled underneath me. We'd
moved far beyond the corner, and with the crib shoved aside, I could
see everything. I could see every single one of the drawings we'd
created on the wall. There was the blurry "help" from the first
day, there was my first angel, there was Eva's birth, the story of
the flood… There was the story of our lives in this wall. This wall
lived and breathed, and for a moment, remembering that conversation
with Marissa and David, I thought I could hear children's voices in
the room. Maybe it was just an echo of our laughter, but for a moment
I could hear it, filling up the empty spaces. I pressed one hand
against the wall, feeling how the children moved and wept with me.

But I wasn't supposed to feel anything. I hadn't felt anything
from the flood. Nothing. Not one thing. This pain… it wasn't
supposed to be here. It wasn't like I'd lost a home. I hadn't
been separated from my family. I hadn't had anyone to worry about…
Their faces were before my eyes—David, Gabrielle, Brooke, Marissa,
Sylvia, and Eva… Their faces were pressed into my mind and into the
wall, right before my eyes, right before my heart and soul. They'd
felt. I hadn't.

It seemed almost involuntary. I picked up one of the black pens we'd
left behind, uncapped it, and pressed it against the wall. I didn't
know what I could draw, but then instead of drawing, I wrote in large
letters MARISSA above the "help". Above Sylvia's cartoon
images, I wrote SYLVIA, and above David's children, I wrote
DAVID. BROOKE and EVAN went in their appropriate
places, and then in above the pictures of the angels, I wrote EVA.
When I took a step back, I realized that the names formed a sort of
arc, this kind of dome, with one empty spot in the middle.
Impulsively, I wrote right there FAMILY in huge, sprawling
letters.

"You're my family too," I whispered to myself, hearing the room
swallow the words.

I stepped back again, and just stared at the wall. It was covered in
drawings, and each one of us had put our heart and souls into it.
Every drawing told the tale of our life. Every drawing was part of
the tale, and every single one fit in.

And I saw those children for just a moment. Some of the older
drawings had begun to fade slightly, the black marker seeping into
the wall-paper. For a moment, I saw tired children, trying to live
off of the single moment of life I gave them, and then just waiting.
Waiting as I had. Waiting for someone. Children. All of us. Children
in the walls.

And I wondered. I wondered what would happen to those faces, to those
children in the walls. What would happen when the walls tumbled down?
When everything crumbled? What would happen to those children whose
faces are carved deep into the ashy white, whose lives depend on my
air and my blood, my fingers, my ink, my life? What would happen to
their faces, their lives… These images?

And what would happen to us?

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